


In Drear-Nighted December

by ensorcel



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, F/F, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21949036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensorcel/pseuds/ensorcel
Summary: A holiday story across three different days of three different years. Friends, family, and a little bit of snow are sprinkled into Andy's and Miranda's lives.Happy holidays, and may the next year bring you joy and delight.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly & Andrea Sachs, Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 20
Kudos: 134





	1. Too Happy, Happy Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Twentieth Century Fox and Laura Weisberger. Any characters recognized don't belong to me.
> 
> This will be a three chaptered story, with each chapter being posted on the day of the event: Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Year's Eve. I hope you enjoy, and happy holidays! Un-betaed, so please forgive me for any mistakes.

**December 24th, 2007.**

Andy frantically ran down the white sidewalks of New York—or the closest she could get to running in her shabby, six year old boots. Would there even be a store open today? The sky was covered over by clouds, and a slight snowfall had started. Clutching her bag, she whipped a hand out for a cab, hoping she could signal one on Christmas Eve at seven in the morning. 

The streets were relatively empty—only an idiot would be out and about this early and on such a day as this, and lucky for Andy, she _was_ stupid enough. The signature yellow car screeched to a halt at the curb, almost spraying Andy with snow-mixed-slush. Wrenching the door open, she clambered in, rubbing her hands together for warmth. 

“Elias-Clarke offices, please,” Andy spit out. The driver nodded, and they slowly drudged through the ever-growing snow. Shit. Would Nigel even be in at _Runway_ today? He probably had plans, right? It was Christmas Eve after all. Unless Nigel didn’t celebrate Christmas. Wait. Did he? 

Fuck. 

Well. This had to work. It just _had_ to. 

She tapped on the driver’s shoulder. “Can we go any faster?” (It was a dick move and she knew it.) 

“It’s snowing harder, ma’am. Driving faster wouldn’t be safe,” he replied. Andy slumped in her seat. 

“Okay. Thanks, anyways.” 

Her fingers tapped nervously on her arm. Just before the car pulled up the shiny, grey building, the door was already open and Andy had thrown a stash of bills into the driver’s lap.

“Keep the change!” she hollered, running towards the revolving doors. Giving a quick nod to the security man and furiously swiping her identity card, she raced to the elevator and all the way up to the seventeenth floor. The doors dinged and Andy was sprinting towards his office.

Oh thank fuck. 

Nigel, in all his amazing-ness, had his head bowed in concentration, looking over some sort of design layout. His glasses were perched on his head and he was humming some kind of tune Andy thought she’d recognized but clearly didn’t. 

Completely out of breath, she barged in.

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Nigel said, not even looking up. 

Andy held up a hand, hugging her stomach. Jesus, she was out of shape. 

“IcompletelyforgottogetMirandaagiftandnowI’mfucked,” she hurled out. 

“Pardon me, but could you speak English? I’m not fluent in whatever you just said,” Nigel replied, placing down his pencil and looking at her sternly. 

“I,” Andy began. “Completely forgot to get Miranda a gift. And now I’m fucked.” 

“Ah.” 

“Can you help me?” Andy was willing to beg. A thousand percent.

“Well, Six. Let’s see. Who’s in work today and who isn’t?” Andy groaned. 

“Come on, Nigel. Not even _Miranda_ is in today. You don’t need to impress her,” Andy reasoned. Please, please agree.

Nigel paused, and placed his glasses back on. 

“Give me twenty minutes.” 

“Yes!” Andy attacked him with a hug. “Thank you so much!” 

“You owe me, Six,” he chuckled, wrestling her arms off him. 

* * *

“Do you have _any_ clue as to what to get my boss?” 

“Nope,” Andy replied, accidentally kicking the desk. Nigel glared at her. 

“Well. Since I’ve never dated Miranda Priestly, I would quite frankly say that _I_ have no clue either,” Nigel said. Andy slumped. “However, that does not mean that I won’t be better at this than you will.” 

“Oh thank god, because I truly have no idea.” Nigel shook his head in amusement. 

“And to think this is Miranda Priestly’s girlfriend,” he crooned. Andy blushed. 

“Hey, we can’t all be super elegant fashionistas,” Andy shot back. 

“Touche.” Andy swung her legs back and forth as she sat on the stool, almost like a child, watching Nigel diligently put together a new spread for what she assumed was next month’s magazine. 

Nope, not clothes because she’d fuck that one right up. Maybe jewelry then? Miranda had such a specific taste that Andy couldn’t be sure what exactly to get her. Chocolate—was she seriously _that_ desperate? 

“She has a Christmas tree this year, right?” 

“Huh?” 

“Does Miranda have a Christmas tree this year?” Nigel asked again. Andy frowned. She hadn’t really quite spent that much time at Miranda’s place, and during her tenure as an assistant she’d left just before. Usually she was up and out of the house before eight more mornings anyways. Never really had a chance to spare the sitting room a glance—or maybe it would be somewhere else in the house? 

“Um, I’m not sure,” she meekly said. “I mean, probably right? The twins get so excited about Christmas—I seriously doubt that there wouldn’t be one up. Why?” 

Nigel pointedly looked at her. “Do I need to explain everything?”

“Uh. Maybe?” 

“Miranda hasn’t had a tree in _years._ Last year was her first and it was only after Caroline and Cassidy had begged, and I mean begged, for half the year.” Nigel kept at his fancy drawing. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

Andy grinned. 

“Nigel.” 

He looked up. “No.” 

“Nigel, Nigel, Nigel.” 

“No.” 

“Please?” Andy jokingly batted her eyelashes at him. 

“No.”

“Come on—think of how fun this could be!” 

Nigel gave the loudest sigh Andy ever thought she’d heard. 

“Fine.” 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” 

“No hugging though,” he said, just stopping her. Andy crossed her arms. 

“Fine.” 

* * *

That’s they ended up, freezing, in front of a giant Home Depot on Third Avenue. 

“She’s going to hate anything that isn’t hand picked from some fancy tree farm, isn’t she?” Andy asked. 

“Yes.” 

“That was rhetorical!” Andy nudged Nigel in the chest.

“Well. My answer’s right either way.” Andy huffed. He was right. 

“I’m surprised it’s open this early,” Andy said, checking her watch. It was just a little before eight. 

“No rest for the wicked,” Nigel replied, stepping into the store without her.

“Hey! Wait up!” 

* * *

“Why are there so many trees?” Truly. There were so many trees. This was a whole _floor_ of trees. And Andy had grown up in goddamn Connecticut. Where the entirety of that place was trees. 

Nigel shrugged. “Which one will she hate the least?” 

“Which one is the easiest to decorate?” Andy shot back. 

“Shit. You’re right,” Nigel said. He whipped around and looked at her. “You’re not expecting me to help you decorate, are you?” 

Andy fumbled with her hands. 

“Maybe…” 

Nigel groaned. 

“Okay, let’s find this damn thing and we’ll think of a theme that won’t burn her eyes.” 

“Thank you!” Andy nearly jumped up and down like a little girl on Christmas morning. 

“I hope you know that she’s still my boss,” he grumbled. 

“Yup! I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you,” she joked, hooking his arm with her’s. “Christmas tree hunt here we go!” 

* * *

“This one will work, right? There’s lights already on it—one less thing we need to do.” 

“Hm,” Nigel mused. He looked at it a bit longer. And then a little more. And then a lot more. “Sure.” 

“You stared at that thing for like ten minutes! Is ‘sure’ all I’m going to get?” 

“Since I’m helping you decorate, yes, yes, that’s all you’re getting,” he replied. Andy rolled her eyes. 

“Okay let’s get this sucker to Miranda’s,” Andy said. “I’ll get it in, and you distract her.” 

“What is this, a Hallmark movie?” 

Andy glared at him. He held his hands up in surrender. 

“Fine, fine. I’ll call her into the office, but believe me when I say that my head just might not make it to tomorrow, and you, young lady, will have to pay for it.” 

“You betcha!” Andy shot him her annoying finger guns. He rolled his eyes but laughed. 

“Come on, I’ll pick out the ornaments since you have no eye whatsoever for visuals,” he said, grabbing her arm and looking for a sales associate to help them out. 

“Hey!” 

“It’s true.” 

Andy couldn’t help but agree. 

* * *

Home Depot was convenient enough to deliver the tree to Miranda’s townhouse—now Andy could only hope that it came in time so she could throw some ornaments onto it and shove the twins’ gifts underneath. Oh, and hope that Miranda didn’t already have a goddamn tree. Then, she’d really be fucked. Rushing a cab once more, she quickly checked her watch as her knee shook. Eleven. Okay. She had time. Maybe she could rope the twins into this. Gain some favour and get it done quicker. Oh, and she had to keep Miranda from seeing the tree before tomorrow morning. That too. (She had absolutely no idea how to do that.) 

Using her keys to let herself in, she quickly ran across all the rooms that could possibly have a Christmas tree. Which was all the rooms. 

Thank god. 

No tree in sight. She was good.

“Miranda?” she called, even though she knew that she was at the office with Nigel. A stampeding of feet came down the stairs. 

“Hey Andy,” Cassidy said. (She really hoped it was Cassidy.) Oh wait. The earrings. Okay, this was Cassidy. She got it right. 

“Hey Cass,” Andy replied, putting her coat and scarf into the closet. 

“Mom was called in by Uncle Nigel. I don’t know how long it will be,” Cassidy explained, just about to turn around and head back up. 

“Wait! Would you and your sister like to decorate a Christmas tree?” 

Cassidy stared at her. She looked eerily like her mother. Andy felt like she was getting a talking down at _Runway_ again. 

“Really?” The girl nearly lit up. 

“Yup. It’s my gift to your mother, so this needs to stay top secret, okay?” 

“Ohmygosh—” 

The girl scrambled up the stairs, presumably to grab her sister. Andy chuckled, and placed her shoes aside. The stampede came down the stairs again, Cassidy accompanied by Caroline this time. 

“Are we really decorating a tree?” Caroline asked. 

“Yup, we sure are,” Andy replied, as nonchalantly as possible. Caroline jumped with joy. Andy felt the same. 

“Where is it?”

“It’s coming; it should be here before one, so how about some lunch for now?” Andy proposed. 

“You can cook?” 

“Of course—” 

“Pancakes?” Cassidy cut her off. Andy grinned. 

“Yup. Pancakes, coming right up!” 

It started snowing harder outside, but the lights had started to twinkle and somewhere in this busy, busy city, Nigel and Miranda were sharing a drink. 

* * *

The doorbell rang just as Andy finished the first batch.

“Girls? Could one of you grab that? It’s the tree,” Andy asked, but really, she didn’t need to. Both of them had dashed out of the kitchen. Andy chuckled, and wiped her hands on her apron. 

“Delivery for Andrea Sachs?” the man asked, holding out a pen for her to sign. 

“Thanks, and happy holidays!” The delivery man nodded, and wished her the same. She could feel the twins bursting with excitement. 

“Now, if someone could just grab the box in the kitchen and bring it up to the library, that would be great,” she requested, almost laughing as the twins both raced up the stairs.

Okay. The box wasn’t huge, but it would take some work to drag it up a flight of stairs. However, putting the tree in the first floor sitting room would be too obvious. It would be too difficult to keep Miranda from noticing it there. 

Well. 

No rest for the wicked indeed. 

* * *

“How about over here?” Cassidy asked as Andy sat back on the couch, cupping her hot chocolate. Hopefully the pancakes were still warm as both girls had completely forgotten about them. 

“That’s great!” 

“Andy has no eye for this stuff, you know that,” Caroline said, snatching the angel out of her sister’s hand and replacing it closer to the top. (She was right. Andy couldn’t tell the damn difference.) 

“Once you girls are finished, make sure to eat your lunch okay? Your mom would skin me if you didn’t,” Andy reminded them.

“Mom would skin you for just making pancakes,” Caroline joked, grabbing the ribbon from the box Nigel oh-so-carefully curated so that even Andy couldn’t fuck it up. 

“Touche.” 

“Done!” Cassidy exclaimed, her smile beaming. 

“It looks amazing!” Andy gushed. It really did. Nigel had really “baby-proofed” this thing, and since Andy had barely touched it, it looked even better than expected. Red ribbons were delicately draped between the branches, complimenting the twinkling white lights. Angels, flowers, and other ornaments adorned the tree, just missing the star at the top. 

“Who wants to put on the star?” Andy asked. “I can only lift one of you,” she cheekily added. 

“Me!” Both twins jumped up and down. They looked at each other, almost a staring contest of sorts. Andy wouldn’t be surprised if it was. 

“It’s okay, Caroline can do it,” Cassidy finally said. Andy placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“You can do it next year alright?” Cassidy’s eyes gleamed. 

“Okay!” 

“Alright, grab the star Caroline,” Andy said, rolling up her sleeves, really hoping that she could lift the ten year old girl. “Ready?” 

“Yup!” 

Grabbing Caroline by the waist Andy hoisted her up, just high enough for the girl to carefully nestle the star at the top. Andy slowly lowered her, her arms straining. She really did need to work out. 

“Thanks Andy,” Caroline said, nearly knocking her off her feet with a hug, Cassidy joining the shortly after. 

“God bless us, everyone!” Cassidy shouted, mimicking Tiny Tim perfectly. All three of them burst into giggles. 

“A classical literature reader, huh?” 

“ _Harry Potter_ really got us to expand,” Caroline explained, jumping in. Andy pulled them in for another hug, tickling the girls into oblivion. 

“Pancake time now! Whoever gets to the kitchen last is a boiled egg!” 

The twins, once again, stampeded through the hallways. It was still snowing outside, but Andy’d never felt warmer. She raced after them—she didn’t want to be a boiled egg either. 

* * *

_You owe me your entire life. Miranda will be be back in half an hour._

Perfect. She had just finished up making Christmas Eve dinner and the tree was carefully tucked into the corner of the library. Everything was going to plan. 

_I really do. Thank you so much <3 _

Andy placed into her mental to-do list to stop by Nigel’s tomorrow with some sort of alcohol. Maybe a fancy scotch or bourbon? She’ll ask Miranda for Nigel’s tastes. 

“Girls! Your mother is coming back in half an hour! Please set the table,” Andy hollered, setting her phone down and checked on the ham. The table was nicely—or about as nice as Andy could get it—decked out with garlands, poinsettias, and small candles. Honestly, Andy was kind of proud of herself. She could only hope that Miranda liked it. 

The twins ran into the kitchen, sliding in their socks. Andy chuckled, and gestured them to the plates on the counter.

“This looks so cute, Andy!” Cassidy said, nearly dropping her plates. 

“Watch out—” 

“I got it, don’t worry!” 

Andy sighed. Half an hour. Alright. 

* * *

The shaking of keys and shoes tapping in the doorway sent Andy running.

Miranda, in all her snowy glory, cheeks rosy from the cold, stood in the doorway with a sprig of mistletoe above her. Of course, it was a sprig of mistletoe she had not yet noticed. 

“Welcome home,” Andy said, grabbing her coat and gloves. 

“Mmm, I see you have completely barged in on my Christmas,” Miranda quipped. Andy softly laughed. 

“Look up,” she whispered. 

Miranda distracted, Andy grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in for a smooth kiss. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

* * *

“Andrea, this—” 

Miranda Priestly speechless, that was something Andy never thought she’d see. Truly. 

“This is lovely, dear,” Miranda said, sitting down. 

“Girls!” Andy called, and as expected, the girls sprinted down. 

“Hey Mom,” they chorused. Andy poured out some sparkling apple cider for them and handed Miranda a glass of red wine. (Something way too fancy out of her stores that Andy only felt a little bad for.) 

“Merry Christmas, girls,” Miranda began, holding her glass up for a toast. “Many thanks to Andrea for this wonderful surprise—really, truly. May this night be merry and bright for everyone.” 

“God bless us, everyone!” Cassidy said, bringing out her impression of Tiny Tim again. Andy laughed. 

“God bless us, indeed.” 

* * *

“Merry Christmas, Miranda,” Andy whispered, kissing her on the cheek as she snuck downstairs to bring out the tree and tuck the gifts underneath. 

Flickering the lights on, she grabbed the gifts from their hiding places and arranged them as nicely as possible. 

“I thought you were going to bed,” Miranda said. Andy jumped. 

Shit. 

“Uh, I was!” 

“What’s this?” Miranda asked, walking down the stairs. 

“Santa’s gift for you,” Andy flirtatiously said, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“You didn’t need to,” Miranda softly said. 

“I know.” 

Miranda kissed her, gently, in the hums and lights of the tree. 

“I wanted to.” 

> _“In drear nighted December_
> 
> _Too happy, happy tree,_
> 
> _Thy branches ne’er remember_
> 
> _Their green felicity—_
> 
> _The north cannot undo them_
> 
> _With a sleety whistle through them_
> 
> _Nor frozen thawings glue them_
> 
> _From budding at the prime.”_


	2. Too Happy, Happy Brook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda was cold. She finds that she no longer is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! Here is the second, short instalment of "In Drear-Nighted December". Happy reading! The third will be up on New Year's Eve.

Christmas was never a particularly happy time. December itself was busy, hot off the stresses and terrors of Fashion Week. No, no, the holiday season was never a source of joy for Miranda. As the snow fell and the years passed, the lights went up with an order to an assistant who would call some kind of company who did that thing, and the cold’s bite only became harder. 

No, Miranda found little joy out of December. 

So, the Priestly household was minimal with their decorations, with the flowers staying the same, the walls remaining blank, and definitely no Christmas tree standing proudly in the living room. 

It wasn’t until her girls started going to school and visiting their friends’ elaborately decked out homes. They came home wailing about how  _ boring  _ and  _ bland  _ their house was, how Miranda had no decorations and how she never came home on time.

No, December was only a reminder of what a failure she was as a mother. (It had never come easy to her; there was no “maternal feeling” that came upon her afterwards, nothing but a pit of something terrible and the appalling thoughts of what if she never had children.) 

Eventually, the girls’ complaints went away as their gifts only became more complicated, more catered, and if there was anything Miranda hated more than a complete disaster of a spread was buying her daughters’ love. 

As husbands and father figures swept by, so had the Christmases. Each one of them a void of a tree as the previous. 

There was nothing particularly  _ wrong  _ with that. It wasn’t though she hadn’t celebrated Christmas with her family—they did. A wonderful dinner would be prepared with beautiful gifts and precious smiles. There was absolutely nothing  _ wrong  _ with no tree up in the Priestly household. 

Or so she thought. 

It wasn’t until Andrea Sachs came bouncing into her life that she had realised there was. 

A girl with self-assurance and righteousness higher than Miranda’s demands from her assistants waltzed into her office, dressed in what Miranda could only describe as an assault on her eyes. Some hideous sweater with a poorly paired skirt and what on earth were those?  _ Clogs?  _

But with a speech on how smart and right she was, Miranda was interested. Andrea Sachs. That sounded nice on a headliner. (This girl had potential, and if there was one thing Miranda was maybe better at than fashion, it was spotting talent. She had, after all, nurtured some of the greatest designers, writers, and creators of her industry. Miranda Priestly was truly something and she knew it.) 

And that year, there was nothing  _ wrong  _ with no Christmas tree in the hallowed halls of her home. Nothing at all, and the girls didn’t say anything because Miranda had brought home the loveliest of gifts imaginable. There was simply nothing wrong.

Christmas came and went with the entireties of 2006, and when Andrea left, it was like a punch in the chest. (Miranda didn’t know then, but she sure as hell does now.) 

Andrea, in all her lack of vision and complete ignorance of fashion, had managed to take Miranda’s carefully controlled world and melt it to pieces. 

In all the cliches imaginable, Andrea Sachs, with her ugly skirts and terribly practical shoes, had managed to melt the Snow Queen’s heart. She had managed to melt it and leave it on the streets of Paris underneath a fresh layer of snow. 

But that year, there was definitely nothing  _ wrong  _ with the coldness that had started to steep in Miranda’s home. No, there was absolutely nothing wrong. (After all, that chill had always been there, right? Planted by husband after husband to failed marriage after failed marriage. So no, as far as Miranda was concerned, the cold was simply always there.) 

Andrea Sachs, with her poor fashion choices and a wanting for more, had managed to leave Miranda’s hope on the grounds of a foreign country and ran away with a last-minute plane ticket that was far too expensive.

Miranda, as far as she told herself, didn’t remember anything of it. After all, she was just an assistant. A brief blip in Miranda’s long career of success. (Or another failure in Miranda’s long string of attempts as to a personal life.) 

Andrea Sachs was a blip. That was all. A passing breeze. (A passing breeze with a lovely cheap perfume.) 

Hence, when Miranda spots a familiar face at some fancy event, she tells herself that surely, it isn’t. After all, why on Earth would a political reporter be at a fashion event? (Not that Miranda  _ knew  _ that Andrea was a political reporter. It was just a guess. It wasn’t like she was following on the girl’s career. That would be ridiculous.) 

But the long neck and lovely navy blue dress caught her eye and Miranda was holding a glass of red when she approached her. 

She couldn’t remember what the hell she said but it was definitely something as just three minutes and twenty-eight seconds later, Andrea’s mouth was on hers in the bathroom and Miranda’s breath was knocked out of her lungs. 

She couldn’t remember what she said but Andrea’s lips were incredibly soft and tasted of the champagne that they were serving that Miranda refused. 

Gasping, she pulled back, and ran a hand through her hair. What the  _ fuck  _ was she doing? 

Andrea was blushing. She looked incredibly… 

Beautiful. 

Miranda wanted to take her and paste images all across her magazine, almost as if to brag, that this beauty she had  _ kissed.  _

But then, just as she had in Paris, Andrea left as quickly as she came and Miranda was standing in front of a slightly dirty mirror with her lipstick smeared. 

* * *

Life went on. Andrea didn’t mean anything—she had too much wine and it was different. This is what she told herself. It didn’t mean anything. (But sometimes, at night, she would remember the softness of Andrea, how wonderful she felt in her arms, how lovely her smile was.) 

So, when she barks for her assistant to give her the number of her florist, she knows that it didn’t mean anything. Miranda was just congratulating Andrea on a job well done with covering the upcoming midterms. Nothing special. 

A beautiful bouquet of roses appears right outside the door of Andrea’s shabby but well-loved apartment, and the next thing Miranda knows is that she’s being kissed against the wall in her doorway, Andrea’s chapstick all over her lips. 

Andrea texts her throughout the day, and Miranda replies. It is short, sweet, and Miranda, for once in her goddamn life, isn’t freezing. It’s almost as though she thawed as the snow fell further. 

It was lovely. 

Very, very lovely. 

The snow continues to fall that year, harder than it ever had before. Miranda had already prepped Andrea’s gift, a lovely fountain pen and a set of earrings she will refuse but wear to her next large event. 

What Miranda doesn’t know this year, is that she is going to realise that there was something wrong with her Christmases. 

Andrea somehow managed to set up the tree without her knowing—though she knew that Nigel had some kind of hand; there was no way that he had called her in to look over some designs for the next month. 

She came home to ham in the oven and a Christmas song hummed through the hallways. There are decorations all across her home, some placed messily, some a little nicer, but Miranda’s heart swells at the thought of Andrea putting in all this work. For her. 

They went to bed early that night, until Miranda noticed that her bedside was cold. Carefully sneaking down the stairs after Andrea, guided by a soft glow, she was greeted with a beautiful view. 

Andrea, in her old college t-shirt and sweatpants, was carefully arranging the presents for the girls while fixing some of the ornaments on the tree. 

Miranda was warm. 

For one of the first times, Miranda was warm. 

Andrea had warmed the Snow Queen indeed. 

**December 25, 2009.**

“Mom! Andy! Wake up!” 

Miranda groaned as a foot nearly kicked her. Andy flipped the pillow over her head, only to have Cassidy rip it off her.

“It’s Christmas morning! Santa came!” 

Miranda smiled, pulling Caroline in for a hug. 

“Yes, yes, darlings,” she said, sniffling a yawn. “Andrea, wake up.” 

“No,” she flatly replied. Miranda chuckled. 

“Alright, I guess you won’t see what Santa got you.” 

“Andy, Andy! Christmas time!” Caroline nearly shouted, jumping on the bed again. 

“Ugh, fine,” Andy mumbled, as Cassidy tore the blanket off her. 

“Okay, okay, girls, hurry on down and we’ll be there very soon,” Miranda said, corralling the twins off the bed. 

“Love you mom,” they chorused, and ran down steps. 

“Love you too,” she replied, grinning. “Wake up, dear,” she whispered in Andy’s ear. She groaned, and shoved the blankets back on. “You don’t want to let down the girls, do you?” 

“Miranda,” Andy began, dragging out the “a” in her name. “Five more minutes.” 

“Absolutely not!” Miranda exclaimed, pulling the blankets away. “Christmas time.” 

She kissed Andy on the cheek and headed for the washroom. 

“I put up the tree!” Andy yelled. 

Miranda laughed. 

This was going to be a delightful Christmas, tree and all. 

* * *

Cassidy had grabbed her by the arm before she could even get to the bottom of the stairs, bursting with excitement at her gifts. 

“Mom! Look, look at what Santa got me!” she gushed, showing Miranda the figurine of Hermione Granger. 

“Yes, dear. Santa really outdid himself this year, didn’t he?” Miranda replied, glancing at Andy. She beamed. 

“Hey, look at this!” Andy pointed out, grabbing Caroline’s wrapped gift. “Why don’t you open it up, Caro?” 

Caroline ran over, snatching the present from Andy’s hands, hugging it to herself. “I wanted to wait until you guys came.” 

“Well, we’re awake now,” Andy said, tickling the girl as she burst into laughter. 

“Okay, okay,” Caroline said, tearing through the wrapping paper. “Ohmygosh!” 

Another  _ Harry Potter  _ figurine was in her hands, this time Ron Weasley. Andrea had picked that one out. (Andrea had picked both of them out.) 

Miranda sat back, watching as her daughters ran around the room with Andrea. The warmth in her tea spread throughout her, folding her into what was almost a loving embrace. She was at home. 

Outside, the snow fell, with the lights twinkling, and Miranda, was finally happy. 

* * *

They had yesterday’s leftovers for dinner, with Caroline and Cassidy presenting their piano pieces at the end of the day as Andrea and Miranda listened from the couch.

“Bravo, bravo!” Andrea exclaimed, clapping way harder than she needed to. The girls had played very nicely. Miranda was quite impressed at how far their skills have come within the year. 

“Lovely, dears,” she said, giving them a small round of applause. “Why don’t you head up for bed now; it’s past your bedtime.” (Someone had to play bad cop.) 

“Yes, Mom,” Caroline said, before sticking something just above their heads before she and Cassidy clambered up the stairs. 

“Goodnight!” Andy called. Miranda smiled. “What on Earth is  _ that? _ ” 

Miranda’s head shot up, and she burst into laughter. 

Just dangling above them, was quite possibly, the  _ ugliest  _ sprig of mistletoe Miranda had ever seen. And it was very hard to make mistletoe look ugly. 

“I guess they had something in mind for us,” Miranda laughed, wrapped an arm around Andrea. She was incredibly warm. 

“I guess they did,” Andrea whispered, before pulling her in for a kiss. 

She was soft, as always, and as always,  _ warm.  _

Pulling away, Miranda pressed her forehead against Andrea’s. 

“Thank you.” 

* * *

“Goodnight, girls,” Miranda whispered, kissing both of them on the head before turning off the lights. 

“Goodnight, Mom,” they said, just about to fall asleep. Andrea was leaning against the doorway. 

“Merry Christmas, Miranda,” she said, grabbing her hand and leading her to their bedroom. She was warm. 

“Merry Christmas, Andrea.”

> _ “In dear-nighted December _
> 
> _ Too happy, happy brook,  _
> 
> _ Thy bubblings ne’er remember  _
> 
> _ Apollo’s summer look; _
> 
> _ But with a sweet forgetting,  _
> 
> _ They stay their crystal fretting  _
> 
> _ Never, never petting  _
> 
> _ About the frozen time.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! As always, I love your comments and Merry Christmas to all who celebrate :D


	3. Writh'd Not of Passed Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy's home for New Year's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last chapter of "In Drear-Nighted December". I hope you'll enjoy!

> _ “Ah! would ‘twere so with many _
> 
> _ A gentle girl and boy— _
> 
> _ But were there ever any _
> 
> _ Writh’d not of passed joy? _
> 
> _ The feel of not to feel it,  _
> 
> _ When there is none to heal it,  _
> 
> _ Nor numbed sense to steel it, _
> 
> _ Was never said in rhyme.” _

**December 31, 2019.**

Andy lugged her carry-on out of the overhead cabinets, hoping to God she didn’t hit anyone. 

Phew. No damage done. Rushing out, or as close as to rushing as you could on an airplane, she breezed through and made her way through the hell that was LaGuardia airport. 

God. 

Miranda was gonna murder her, that was for sure. (She felt oddly like she had over a decade ago, scrutinized and criticized by the great Miranda Priestly.) 

Scanning the airport for the ever-familiar white coif of hair, Andy grasped onto her bag and whipped out her phone. 

Nevermind that. 

She was just hit with a bundle of red hair, two girls—no,  _ women _ —hurling into her. Andy laughed. 

“Caroline, Cassidy!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around them. They almost towered over Andy, but she hugged them all the same. 

Right behind them, however, was their mother. The woman Andy had truly been waiting to see. 

“Merry Christmas,” Andy said, untangling herself from the twins. She hooked an arm around Miranda’s waist and dropped her luggage onto the ground where it was promptly picked up by Caroline. 

“Merry Christmas,” Miranda replied, smoothly pulling Andy in for a kiss. 

God. That was it. That was what she was waiting for. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Andy whispered as she held Miranda. 

“Don’t be,” Miranda replied, grabbing Andy’s luggage from Caroline. “We’ve got a few surprises at home.” 

Andy smiled, and flung an arm around the twins, walking in the middle of their four-person line. 

“That sounds perfect,” she said, kissing her wife on the forehead. “Just perfect.” 

* * *

Dumping her things on the bed—with a glare from Miranda—Andy flung herself onto the mattress, sighing at its familiar warmth. 

“God, I’ve missed this,” she loudly said. 

“The bed, or me?” Miranda quipped, yanking the carry-on and immediately unpacking Andy’s things. “God, Andrea, couldn’t you just be a  _ tiny  _ bit organised? This is a rats nest.” 

Andy sunk her head into the pillow. 

“What if I just wanted to see my wife faster?” she asked, looking up as Miranda sorted through Andy’s absolute disaster of a suitcase. 

“That is no excuse for whatever  _ this  _ is.” 

“Didn’t you want to see me, Miranda?” Andy jested, resting her head on her hand. “Didn’t you  _ miss  _ me?” 

Miranda scoffed. 

Andy leaped out of bed and pinned her with a kiss. 

“Thanks, dear,” she said, and raced down the stairs to prepare some sort of lunch, because Miranda clearly hadn’t eaten anything. She wasn’t sure about the twins either. 

“Andrea?” Miranda called down. 

“Yes?” 

“I did.” 

Andy smiled.  _ Of course  _ she did. 

* * *

“Caroline, Cassidy! Lunch!” 

The trademarked stampede of the two girls came down the stairs, even though they were both twenty-four. 

“Girls, we are not elephants,” Miranda snipped, but Andy saw that she had to keep herself from laughing. Some things really didn’t change. 

“Yes, Mom,” they replied, settling down for Andy’s quick soup and bread. 

“Thank you, Andrea,” Miranda said, kissing Andy on the cheek just before she sat down. 

“Thank you for not killing me for missing Christmas,” Andy replied, flipping an egg. “I’ll be here next year.”

Miranda tensed up. She smiled, but Andy, from her years of experience with everything Miranda, could tell that it was forced. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

Andy froze. 

“Who wants eggs?” she asked, grinning. She placed a hand on Miranda’s shoulder. “We’re talking about this later.” 

Miranda didn’t reply, and they sat down for lunch. 

“How was your semester, Caroline?” 

* * *

“If you didn’t want me to take the job, you should’ve just  _ told  _ me,” Andy said, not sure if she was mad or not. After all, she was surprised that there was little complaint from Miranda about it in the first place. 

“It’s not—” 

Andy glared at her. 

“It was because it was over Christmas, okay?” 

Miranda sighed. 

Andy continued. “I’m a  _ political  _ reporter for God’s sake—there was no way I wasn’t covering the impeachment.” 

“I understand,” Miranda said. “I just wish you were here this year.” 

Andy put down the shirt she was folding and walked over to Miranda, who was reapplying her makeup in front of the vanity. She wrapped her arms around her and looked at their reflection in the mirror. 

“I’m here now,” she whispered into Miranda’s neck. 

“Yes, yes,” Miranda replied, irritably, but this time, Andy knew that it was because she’d almost made Miranda fuck up her lipstick.

“You really missed me, huh?” 

Miranda sniffed. 

“You did,” Andy teased. 

“Nigel’s coming around to watch the ball drop.” 

“Sounds good; he can get drunk with us.” 

Miranda glared at her. 

“The girls are home.” 

“So?” 

Miranda’s twinkling laugh followed her all the way to the bathroom. 

* * *

“Nigel!”

“Andreyaa,” he said, mimicking how Miranda said her name. Andy laughed. “How’s the married couple?” 

“Good, good,” she replied. “How’s James?” 

“In North Carolina; family things and I really didn’t want to go along,” Nigel quipped, handing her his coat. 

“Caroline and Cassidy are excited to see you.” 

“God, I’m excited to see you, with all that time you were in  _ D.C., _ ” Nigel shuddered. “Nothing but trouble, that city.” 

“True, true, but you know where the job takes you.” 

The stampede of feet came down the stairs, Caroline and Cassidy hugging Nigel. 

“Nigel!” 

“You guys get taller each time I see you,” he exclaimed, hugging them both back. “Where’s the booze?” he mouthed to Andy, who only laughed.

“It’s coming,” she said, ushering them in. “First, dinner!” 

* * *

Miranda had this one cooked by Milly. It wasn’t that Andrea wasn’t a good cook—she was, but today, Andy spent most of the afternoon lounging around with Caroline and Cassidy, and therefore, completely forgot. 

“Any remarks?” Miranda asked, raising a glass. 

“Here’s to a new decade,” Andy simply said. 

“To a new decade,” everyone chorused over the quiet clinking of wine. 

“And here’s to getting sloppy drunk!” Nigel added. 

Everyone laughed, and Andy had a warmth swell up in her chest. 

Yes. Here’s to everyone getting sloppy drunk. 

* * *

The television was on, the champagne had been popped, and Anderson Cooper was talking too quickly into his mic as Don Lemon got drunk to his left. Ah, if this wasn’t New Year’s Eve in New York City. 

The clock ticked in the corner and Andy had an arm around Miranda’s waist. She smelt like wine and the remnants of her perfume at the end of a long day. It was. It was a long year. 

People started chanting down on the screen, as Caroline and Cassidy clutched onto their glasses of champagne. 

“Five—” 

The fireworks started going. 

“Four—” 

Andy took another sip. Miranda did too. 

“Three—” 

She held onto Miranda tighter. 

“Two—” 

Miranda grasped her hand.

“One—” 

Andrea set her glass onto the table. 

“Happy New Year!”

**FIN.**

> _ “In drear nighted December  _
> 
> _ Too happy, happy tree,  _
> 
> _ Thy branches ne’er remember  _
> 
> _ Their green felicity—  _
> 
> _ The north cannot undo them _
> 
> _ With a sleety whistle through them  _
> 
> _ Nor frozen thawings glue them _
> 
> _ From budding at the prime. _
> 
> _ In dear-nighted December _
> 
> _ Too happy, happy brook,  _
> 
> _ Thy bubblings ne’er remember  _
> 
> _ Apollo’s summer look; _
> 
> _ But with a sweet forgetting,  _
> 
> _ They stay their crystal fretting  _
> 
> _ Never, never petting  _
> 
> _ About the frozen time. _
> 
> _ Ah! would ‘twere so with many _
> 
> _ A gentle girl and boy— _
> 
> _ But were there ever any _
> 
> _ Writh’d not of passed joy? _
> 
> _ The feel of not to feel it,  _
> 
> _ When there is none to heal it,  _
> 
> _ Nor numbed sense to steel it, _
> 
> _ Was never said in rhyme.” —John Keats _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this last chapter of this little holiday work. Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you to all my readers for a great year, and I hope to bring you more in this coming decade. Happy New Year's Eve, and may you days be merry and bright <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this short, sweet chapter to start us off! Merry Christmas to all that celebrate it, and happy holidays! Keep your eye out for the update tomorrow :D


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